


A Life Most Ordinary - Deleted Scenes

by sonofabiscuit77



Series: A Life Most Ordinary [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kid Fic, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-25 08:45:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofabiscuit77/pseuds/sonofabiscuit77





	A Life Most Ordinary - Deleted Scenes

The 2 sections below got cut from one of my earlier drafts at the suggestion of [](http://andreth47.livejournal.com/profile)[**andreth47**](http://andreth47.livejournal.com/). As I mentioned, she helped me out A LOT with the structure  & pacing of this thing, and I think she was completely right as they did really slow down the momentum of the story and distract from the main narrative. The backstory these sections provided really wasn't necessary for the main story, so I happily cut them.

However!!! There were a few things in these 2 cut interlude sections that I quite liked... The main one being the fact that I wrote them from the POV of jealous! possessive! Sam, and as I can't ever get enough of that Sam, I'm going to be super-self-indulgent and post these two interlude sections here as deleted scenes or prequels or whatever you want to call them.

_Interlude Three: Cora & Jonah: this deals with Dean's first serious gf, Cora, his relationship with her & Jonah's birth..._

**INTERLUDE THREE: CORA AND JONAH**

 

Cora Fontanelli was Dean’s first serious girlfriend and she and Dean had first gotten together at their senior prom. She wasn’t the girl Dean’d actually taken to prom, no, that was Heidi Storm, and thirteen years later, she was still holding a grudge.

“Dude, she never got over me,” Dean would hiss smugly, after Heidi blanked them at yet another PTA event; while Sam would roll his eyes and snap back: “Get over yourself!” to which Dean always retorted, “Tell her that. I’m not easy to get over.”

Sam’s introduction to Cora was memorable. He’d been waiting up for Dean to sneak into his room and tell him all about the night, if he’d managed to finally get past third base with Heidi, ‘cause Dean was determined to pry that promise ring off her dainty little hand before graduation. (It was kinda hilarious and weirdly fitting that years later, Heidi’s daughter Ashley – who was in Simon’s class – was conceived out of wedlock). He heard Dean come in, whispering and sniggering and creaking stairs as Dean dragged someone upstairs to his room. He pushed down his sheets and listened closely as Dean’s bedroom door shut and closed, lock snapping shut, followed pretty quickly by a chorus of bed squeaks, headboard-thumps and grunts and groans worthy of that one porno VHS Dean had gotten him for his last birthday.

He lay in bed and listened to his brother having sex. With Heidi he’d thought at the time, not realizing that the lucky chick in question was someone else until she joined them the next morning for a supremely awkward breakfast.

“I’ve been wanting to nail her for years,” Dean admitted as he soaped down the Impala later that afternoon, Sam sitting in a lawn chair with his trig book open on his lap. “She’s smokin’, man. And the shit she did with her tongue,” he whistled, snapped a grin at him as he tossed the remains of the water over the roof of the car, “I swear it’s illegal in most states.”

Sam rolled his eyes; Dean laughed, and tossed the wet sponge at him, causing Sam to yelp and retaliate, any conversation quickly deteriorating in a cloud of dirty soapy water and sodden clothes.

He never liked Cora. Sure, he’d never really liked any of Dean’s girlfriends, but Cora was a different matter. And Cora never liked him back. She made a good show of wanting to be Sam’s friend; isolating Sam was a sure-fire method of getting your ass dumped as far as Dean was concerned. He’d gone through at least three girlfriends because Sam hadn’t liked them or they hadn’t liked Sam or they’d complained about having to baby-sit Dean’s little brother all the damn time, not that Sam needed babysitting at thirteen or fourteen, but Dean was single-minded when it came to Sam’s welfare, and if Sam was honest with himself, he kinda liked being his brother’s center of attention. So the chicks put up with Sam. After all, Dean could afford to be picky: he was attractive, athletic, charming and confident; when Dean walked into a room, everyone looked his way.

Cora was different, she soon figured out what made Dean tick, which buttons to press to keep him wanting more. No matter how many times she and Dean broke up and made up again, she never seemed to go completely away, as if there was something about the antagonism, about the drama which always followed her around that kept Dean enthralled. She was fiery; the sort of girl that magazines would call spunky or feisty, though in Sam’s view, annoying and argumentative described her much better. She was very attractive, even Sam couldn’t deny her that, though it wasn’t a sort of attractiveness that appealed to him. It was the sort that made great crossover Latino music videos; it was Madonna circa _Like A Prayer_ attractiveness, all about brazen sexuality and off the shoulder strappy dresses and making out with black Jesus on a hillside. It was an attractiveness that completely buried Dean and most of the other guys in the senior class. It was the kind of attractiveness that would have people telling her she should be a glamour model, or work in porn.

No matter how many times Cora pissed him off or broke up with him, Dean always seemed to come back for more. Sam could remember at least three different occasions over the three years of Dean and Cora’s stormy relationship, Dean getting back from her place with a soft smile and a light in his eyes as he swore to Sam: “This time’s gonna be different, Sammy, she’s promised it’s gonna be different. It’ll work this time, you’ll see.”

Sam never bothered correcting him; the one time he’d actually spoken up and told Dean how he really felt about her, Dean’s face had gone cold and hard and he’d ignored Sam for the entire following day. It had sucked beyond the telling, so Sam learned to keep his mouth shut. However much he disliked Cora and however much he knew she was not the girl for Dean, he knew that Dean had to figure that out for himself. Unfortunately, Dean was nineteen, twenty years old and constantly horny so he wasn’t very good at getting that.

After Sam started dating Jess junior year, things got better. He was still jealous of Cora, still knew that she was nowhere near good enough for his big brother, but things seemed less desperate. He had Jess, and he genuinely believed he was in love with her. Of course, in those days he was still trying to fool himself into believing that he was straight, that the reason he was still so reluctant to sleep with Jess and lose his virginity was nerves and not anything more complicated than that.

He could remember the occasions the four of them would double-date, Dean always loved to do that, would proclaim when he was good and drunk, voice low and drawling, “Gotta love spendin’ time with my favorite guys,” one arm slung around Sam’s neck, the other around Cora, pulling her in to plant a sloppy kiss on her forehead, close enough so Sam could smell her shampoo and see the saliva shining on his brother’s lips. They used to hang out at the one working drive-in, ‘cause Dean loved the kitsch value and it always played those cheesy horror movies that both he and Sam loved. They’d watch the movies, Jess with her head on his shoulder, her blond curls scratching at one side of his face, as they tried to concentrate on the big screen and not on Dean and Cora making out behind them.

After the movies, they would go to a roadhouse bar where the guys knew Dean and knew never to card him or his friends. They would buy pitchers of Bud and onion rings, and Cora would sit on Dean’s lap, even though there was a perfectly serviceable chair for her to use. There was always some band of good ole boys playing rock standards, and after a while, Dean would get loud and flirtatious, and lean over the table with a dazzling smile to ask Jess to dance, and Jess would blink and giggle and blush as Dean led her away because Sam already suspected that his girlfriend had the hots for his big brother, but that was okay, ‘cause it just showed she had good taste. In hindsight, he could see how Dean and Jess would end up together all those years later, Jess had a huge soft spot for Dean, always took his side if he and Dean ever fought, always with a slight frown and a head tilt and a soft, “Well, Sam, you gotta see it from his point of view…” – and of course, Jess hated Cora just as much as he did.

But Dean and Cora did break up for good. He never knew exactly what it was that finally pushed them over the cliff. Neither of them had been unfaithful, Dean wouldn’t do that, and he would definitely have said something to Sam if Cora had cheated on him, besides, what kind of a blind idiot would ever cheat on Dean? No, from what Sam could get from Dean it was something to do her dissatisfaction with Dean’s job. Cora had been pissed and resentful ever since Dean quit college and gave up his football scholarship and his pro-ball dreams to join the county Sheriff’s department. Cora was the kinda girl with the kinda looks born to become the wife of a sports star, not the wife of a small town cop, and he guessed he had to give her some credit for sticking with Dean for as long as she did after he destroyed her dreams. So, Dean and Cora finally split for good, and Cora split town, transferring to some college out of state.

Until she came back.

A couple of months before Sam’s eighteenth birthday and only six months after she’d left, she was back, seven months pregnant and wearing the biggest fuck-you grin he’d ever seen. He came home from school to find her sprawled across the couch, already making herself at home, treating their place like it was hers, like she’d never left, like she even belonged anywhere near them anymore.

She and Dean had been done for months, and Dean had promised, swore to him one afternoon while Sam kept him company at the gym, eyes wide and skin prickling as he gazed around the room at the half-naked guys working out.

“It’s over now, Sammy. I’m done with her, done with all that shit,” Dean puffed out grimly as Sam spotted him over the weights.

Sam swallowed and allowed himself a small, triumphant grin as he tried not to stare at the way the beads of sweat trickled down his brother’s gleaming throat, over his pecs and abs, his toned, pale skin luminous in the gym’s harsh lighting.

Except, it seemed that Dean was wrong, and she really, _really_ wasn’t gone, like, at all.

He stared at her, at her big, distended, pregnant belly, and hated her more than he could ever remember hating anybody before in his life. They were never going to be rid of her now.

“Dean, it’s yours,” she declared to the three stunned Winchesters, Dean’s mouth opening and closing like he was a freaking goldfish, Dad slumped over his crutches with a disbelieving scowl on his face, and himself, leaning against the doorframe of the big den, fingers fisted around the straps of his school backpack.

Dean licked his lips, looked from his father to his brother then finally back to Cora, like he was trying to buy himself some time: “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

She shrugged, and shifted on the couch, pulling herself into a more comfortable position. Sam could remember her lying there with her head on Dean’s lap, Dean playing with her hair, leaning down to trade kisses, while they watched TV and he did his homework in the corner. The memory made his stomach clench up, a nauseous butterfly feeling like before a big exam.

“You don’t. But I was going to give it up for adoption, till I figured you guys might want it.”

“If it’s even Dean’s!” Sam bust out, unable to keep silent any longer.

She turned to him, her eyes narrowing in on his face. “It’s his.”

“Got any proof?”

“Sammy,” Dean said warily. He flashed a look at Sam, a: _shut the hell up and let me deal with this_ look.

“Sammy’s got a point,” said Dad. They all turned to look at him as he limped over to the other couch, sinking down into it gingerly. “How do we know that kid in your belly’s anything to do with us?”

Cora turned her unblinking gaze on Dad. She had always been one of the few people who’d never been scared of him, who’d never been intimidated by his violent mood swings and the patented John Winchester death-glare. “It’s his. This baby is your, well, Dean’s responsibility. You just have to decide what you want to do with it.”

“There is no decision, we’re keeping it,” Dean stated.

 

 

Jonah was born a couple of months later, April, 24th, 2001. Sam could vividly remember the moment he first saw his nephew, cradled against his brother’s chest. Dean was smiling, a huge, soft, happy smile as he stared down into the small bundle in his arms. He looked up, saw Sam hovering, and the smile got even wider, practically splitting his face in two, eyes shining as they locked with Sam’s, as if there was no one else in the room except the three of them.

“Sam, you gotta come here,” he choked out, and Sam crossed the small room, pressed up against Dean’s side, chin hooking over Dean’s shoulder as he stared down at his small, ridiculously perfect nephew. Dean handed him over with shiny watery eyes, whispering, “Hey, go to your Uncle Sammy, Jonah, this is your Uncle Sammy.”

“Jonah?” he murmured.

Dean shrugged, looked embarrassed for a moment before he said, “Yeah, Jonah. S’just – he looks like a Jonah, don’t you think?”

“Dean, he looks like a baby, all babies look the same,” Cora cut in tiredly from the bed. Sam spared her a quick glance, she was pulling her long, dark hair back into a pony tail, her eyes dark and shadowed, pale skin flushed with exertion, it was seriously annoying that even like that, even after giving birth, he could still see how attractive she was.

He turned to look back down at Jonah, his small closed eyes, tiny fisted fingers and the soft, dark wisps of hair. Dean was talking in the background, babbling excitedly, “You shoulda seen him when he came out, man, he was all purple, it was crazy. And I thought his hair – like, I thought it was veins; it was all plastered to his head. Shit, dude, I was so worried, thought he had freaking veins popping out his head. But, look at him –“

“He’s gorgeous,” whispered Sam, catching Dean’s eye, the two of them sharing a grin.

“Course he’s gorgeous,” Dean said, still grinning like a maniac, “look at his parents, hottest couple in school, that was us!”

Sam smiled, seeing Cora’s eye-roll from the corner of his eye.

“He’s gonna be a real heartbreaker,” Dean said, coming to stand close again, big finger tracing over the soft wisps of Jonah’s hair. Sam glanced sideways, his brother’s profile so close he could see the filmy glaze of tears over his eyes, his long, wet lashes, freckles standing out against his pale, tired skin; Sam felt the breath catch in his chest, Dean was so beautiful; of course his son would be beautiful.

“So, uh, Jonah? You think it’s okay?” Dean asked, gaze skating sideways to Sam, a questioning lilt to his voice.

Sam swallowed over the lump in his throat, the warmth in his belly at the idea Dean was asking for his opinion, that Dean wanted his approval to name his kid.

“Yeah,” he said, “yeah, definitely. You’re right; he does look like a Jonah.”

“Jonah Samuel Winchester,” stated Dean.

Sam laughed shakily, he felt so warm, so full of love, not just for the small, warm bundle in his arms, but for Dean, whom he loved to such a stupid, crazy degree. He ducked his head, pressing a kiss to Jonah’s forehead, feeling the flaky white stuff against his lips and cheek, but he didn’t care, he was already in love with his tiny, perfect nephew.

Cora had stuck around for just two weeks after Jonah’s birth, just enough time to heal properly and get her shit together. She’d already started doing her pelvic floor exercises, bitching about losing the baby weight and catching up on her reading for college.

The night before she left, Sam helped her pack up her clothes; most of the maternity stuff she was leaving behind.

“Give it to Goodwill, whatever,” she shrugged. “Maybe whatever girl comes along next will want it.”

“You think Dean’s gonna get someone else?”

“Course,” she said matter-of-factly. “Guys who look like Dean don’t stay single for long. Even with a baby.”

Sam bit his lip and nodded, feeling her eyes on him, judging him in that cool, assessing way she always had. Hell, she was right, Dean had gotten through a couple of girls since he and Cora had broken up for good, though they’d been kicked to the curb when Cora had come back pregnant. Even now, with Jonah taking up all Dean’s time, it wasn’t going to be that long before there was someone else.

“You think I suck, don’t you? For leaving them like this?”

He jerked his head up in surprise, blinked at her. “I don’t think anything about it,” he answered, because that was partly true, the only feeling he had towards her was happiness that she was finally going, though he’d been finding it harder and harder to dislike or resent her since Jonah had been born, anyone capable of producing a baby that amazing and perfect had to be an okay person.

“Sure you don’t,” she said with a sardonic curl to her lip.

He sat on the edge of her bed. “Okay, well, I guess I don’t understand. How you could want to leave Dean and Jonah and – I don’t get it, I guess. He’s just – so perfect and so beautiful and –“

“Just who are you talking about here, Sam: Dean or the baby?” she interrupted. Sam froze, swallowed, ducked his head, feeling his cheeks start to burn. “C’mon, I’m not stupid,” she added, “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

“I, uh, I don’t know what you mean,” Sam eventually managed to croak out, not daring to lift his eyes from the folded maternity jeans in her hands.

She let out a pointed, humorless chuckle, “Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything to Dean. You two have always been kinda – intense – about each other. He’s always been super prickly as far as you’re concerned, and to be honest, I don’t care about that shit anymore.”

He kept quiet, not daring to speak or look at her, eyes fixated by the weave of the denim in the jeans, his stupid red face burning hot.

“Me and Dean are over,” she continued succinctly, taking his silence as cue to continue. “That part of my life is over; I want to move on. Way I see it - when a relationship’s over, you move on. If you don’t then you just end up like my parents, and I never want to be like that.”

He could feel her eyes on him, and finally he swallowed, raised his own eyes, meeting that cool, appraising gaze.

“Don’t you think?” she prompted.

He gave a spastic sort of a shrug, “I guess.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t expect you to understand,” she muttered, “you’ve always hated me.”

“I don’t –“ he started weakly, but she cut him off with a raised eyebrow – it was a look that she’d probably gotten off Dean. He broke off and shrugged self-consciously.

“When I found out I was pregnant I could’ve easily had an abortion. I was going to do it, except – well, I couldn’t do that to Dean. Dean’s not like me; I could never be a mom. I’d be a terrible mom and I’m only 22, but – Dean will be a great dad, and he has you, and I know the baby would be loved with you guys, so there was no excuse for me to have an abortion.” She stopped and looked at Sam for a long beat, “I’m not a bad person, Sam.”

“No, I, uh, I don’t think you’re a bad person, and well, you’re right, not everyone is cut out to be a parent.”

She nodded slowly, “Listen, I haven’t spoken about this to Dean, you know how he is – but with the baby, honestly, I don’t care what you tell him about me.” She spoke the words as if she was in a rush, keen to get them out quickly. “Seriously, it doesn’t really matter, but I think it would be better if you tell him I died or something.”

“You don’t want to see how he’s doing?” Sam asked incredulously. “Like, ever?”

“No, I think – I think it’s best if I don’t, you know? We should treat this like an adoption. Dean can – I trust him to do what’s right for the baby.” She broke off, pressed her lips together firmly as if she was still trying to convince herself. “It’s the best way.”

 

**********************************************************

_Interlude Four: Reiko and Simon - this section deals with John's death, Dean's marriage to Reiko & divorce, Simon's birth & his illness & eventual diagnosis..._

**INTERLUDE FOUR: REIKO AND SIMON**

 

Dean met his first wife, Reiko, at the tail end of 2001. She was Dad’s favorite amongst all the doctors and nurses who came and went at his bedside during the last few months of his life. She struck up a friendship with Dad, and she would come by and see him after her shift, talk for five minutes or usually longer before heading off home, or she’d come by in the morning with a Starbucks coffee for him.

Dad adored her, and it seemed ironic to Sam that for those last few months of his life, his father seemed more alive and more real than at any other point Sam could remember. He flirted with Reiko like he was twenty-five again, letting Sam see exactly where Dean had gotten his own outrageous flirting skills, and it was as if, at the end of his father’s life, he and Dean were finally getting a glimpse of the father they could’ve had.

Although Reiko seemed to genuinely appreciate Dad’s attempts at flirtation, sitting by his side and listening to the old marine stories that Dad had never told Sam or Dean, she really only had eyes for Dean. Sometimes, when Sam was feeling his most vicious, his most petty and jealous, he would silently accuse her of only becoming so friendly with Dad in order to get closer to Dean, because it hadn’t escaped his notice that a lot of the female hospital staff seemed to come by Dad’s room a helluva lot more often when Dean was visiting, and even more often when Dean had baby Jonah with him.

“If I wasn’t riddled with fucking cancer right now, then I would seriously marry that girl,” Dad would say after Reiko had said goodbye, while Sam and Dean blinked at each other in surprise, the cancer seeming to have returned their father’s long-lost (and somewhat warped) sense of humor as well as his long-lost libido.

Deciding finally that Reiko was not going to be his wife, Dad switched his attention to trying to make her his daughter-in-law, encouraging Dean to ask her out on a date with endless comments about what a great girl she was and how smart and intelligent and classy and cute and, “Way better than the chicks you usually date, son.”

Sam was surprised; Dad had always been pretty ignorant of their love lives before. The only girl that had ever registered with him before Reiko was Cora, and that was mainly because she’d lasted so long, and of course because she’d turned up on their front porch seven months pregnant with his grandson.

They found out a lot about Reiko in those last few weeks of Dad’s life. She was thirty, which made her seven years older than Dean, and she was half British and half-Japanese, working over here on the advice of an old mentor, some venerated English professor guy. She told them stories of her life in London, the fancy all-girls school she’d gone to, the hospitals she’d worked in as part of her training. She was smart and funny, with this dry, cutting sense of humor that completely endeared her to Dad. She was also totally straight with him. The morning all his tests came back with the final diagnosis, she came into the room and calmly sat down and explained to Dad exactly why they weren’t going to go ahead with the chemo – it would be pointless as the cancer was too far advanced – what that would mean to him and how many weeks he would have left.

Sam watched from the sidelines, standing close to Dean, his fingers brushing against his brother’s sleeve, as they saw their father take in the reality of his situation, Dad’s big, dark eyes locked on Reiko’s calm, quiet face as he came to terms with the fact that he was going to be dead in a few weeks. Finally, Dad gave this tight, hard nod and pressed his lips together, then he raised his head and barked at Sam to go fetch him some real goddamn coffee. By the time Sam got back from Starbucks, Dean and Reiko had already arranged to go out on a first date that evening, Dad looking on from the sidelines with an approving smile.

In retrospect, Sam was pretty sure that if it hadn’t been for Dad’s enthusiasm and match-making, Dean and Reiko would never have gotten together at all. It was the circumstances that drew them together; like war-time romances, they were swept up by the emotional, desperate nature of the situation, Dean lost and confused by Dad’s sickness and death, and Reiko calm and strong and sympathetic, exactly what Dean needed at that time. Along with Bobby, she made most of the arrangements for the funeral after Dad died; she even cleared out Dad’s old room, Sam and Dean standing on the threshold looking in as if Dad’s bedroom was still forbidden territory.

As for Reiko… well, she was infatuated with Dean. Her eyes would follow him around the room as if she couldn’t quite believe he was real. She admitted to Sam when she was drunk one evening that Dean was nothing like any other guy she’d ever been with before. He was exotic to her, and so ridiculously attractive that she couldn’t understand what she was doing with him, her face getting this bemused, troubled look that was really kinda endearing, and fuck, it wasn’t like Sam couldn’t sympathize, Dean _was_ ridiculously attractive, he knew that better than anyone.

But they did get together, and only three months after Dad’s death, she moved in, and only six months after that, she proposed to Dean.

When Dean told Sam afterwards about it, he got a puzzled, confused look on his face, as if it was his turn to not believe this was happening to him.

“Are you happy?” Sam asked him, and Dean shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “Do you want to marry her?”

“She wants to marry me,” Dean told him. “She says it will be easier, it will keep us together if we have any legal problems.”

“What, like green card problems?”

“Yeah, I guess. Though I think she was thinking more about me going back with her to England.”

Sam’s blood immediately ran cold. “You’re going to move to England?”

Dean raised his eyes and laughed suddenly. “Dude, no, no way. S’just, you know, if we ever wanted to. We would still have that option. If we needed it.”

Sam swallowed, and he bit back the rise of fear, forcing himself to remain calm. “I, uh, I don’t think you should leave Kansas, Dean. There’s, uh, Mom and Dad are buried here, and all your friends are here, and Bobby’s here, and your job and if you wanted to be a cop in England, then you’d probably have to train again for years…”

Dean looked at him for a long moment, then he reached over the table and squeezed Sam’s shoulder, their eyes not breaking contact. “Sammy, trust me, Jonah and me aren’t going anywhere.”

Despite the fact she’d been Dean’s wife and the mother of Dean’s second kid – two things that would never normally endear anybody to Sam – Sam had liked Reiko and Reiko had liked him back. In many ways, she was way more similar to him than she had ever been to Dean. She was smart and academically oriented, quiet and geeky and pretty in a less obvious sort of way than Cora’s in your face sensuality. She was also sympathetic and fearless and completely intractable when she decided upon something, three more traits that Sam knew they both had in common. He liked to think that it were those things about her – all those things they had in common – that made her so appealing to Dean.

If he examined his own feelings properly, then he could see that he knew all along that she had never really posed that big a threat to his relationship with his brother as Cora had or Jess did later. Dean had never been in love with her. He knew that because he remembered how Dean had been with Cora. Dean had been besotted with Cora as only a horny nineteen year old could be. And Reiko… well, he wasn’t even sure if Reiko had been in love with Dean, she’d been infatuated with him, in thrall to him on a physical, sexual level, like a crush, but Sam wasn’t sure if it had ever been any more than that. Reiko never demanded Dean’s attention to herself, never demanded that Dean spend more time with her, that he stop hanging out with his brother so much, she never even demanded that Sam move out, though Sam knew how much of a cock-block he could be. But Reiko was self-sufficient in a way those other girls hadn’t been, she had a life plan and a proper career that was really going somewhere, a job that she loved, and she’d freely admitted to Sam after she’d gotten pregnant with Simon, that a husband and kids had never really been part of that plan.

Dean and Reiko’s relationship was close to breaking point by the time of Simon’s birth. She’d already declared her intention to not breast-feed, to go back to work as soon as she could. Maybe two or three months after the birth, she’d told Sam about a week before her due date when he’d stopped by to visit, soon as they let me, she’d added with a pointed glance in her husband’s direction. Sam had nodded, smiling faintly at her, too aware of Dean glowering in the background, of his own literal position as middle-man.

Simon was born in the early hours of the morning on 15th October 2003. This time Sam wasn’t there when his nephew was born, instead he and David had been drafted in by Dean to baby-sit Jonah. He got the call just after 4am, his phone rousing him from his half-napping state to hear Dean’s excitable jabbering on the other end.

“It’s a boy! Another boy! And he’s so awesome, so fucking beautiful, smaller than Jonah was, but so fucking gorgeous. You gotta see him, Sammy; you have to come see him.”

He went a few hours later, David dropping him and Jonah at the hospital on his way to work at the bookstore. Dean met the two of them by the entrance, looking pale and exhausted, pacing around the lobby with this fraught, manic sort of gleam in his eyes that sparked up when he finally spotted the two of them. Jonah pulled away from Sam and rushed towards his Dad, wrapping his arms around Dean’s legs and crying out loud, “Daddy! Daddy!”

Dean swung him up into his arm and pressed wet, sloppy kisses all over Jonah’s little face, “Hey, buddy! You have fun with your Uncle Sammy, huh? Didja? I missed you so much. Did you miss me?”

“Yes!” Jonah exclaimed decisively, wrapping his small arms around Dean’s neck and kissing Dean’s face.

“You ready to meet your little brother?” Dean asked when he’d put Jonah back down on the ground. Jonah nodded seriously, big brown eyes round and solemn. Dean nodded and looked up at Sam, small smile playing at the edge of his mouth, “You ready too, Sammy?”

“Of course,” Sam answered with his own grin.

Dean huffed out a breath and swung Jonah back up into his arms again, “Okay, then, this way.”

It was the same with Simon as it had been with Jonah, the moment he’d held him in his arms, he’d felt that same rush of tenderness, of protectiveness, of love and complete adoration. Simon and Jonah would never be his children like they were Dean’s, but they were the nearest he was ever going to get, and they were of the same blood as him and Dean, they were family.

He stared down at Simon in his arms, bending to press a kiss to the baby’s forehead, touch his tiny little fingers with their miniscule nails – God, he would never get over that, those tiny, perfect little nails – with his own enormous looking finger.

“Hey, Simon, hey, gorgeous,” he whispered softly.

It wasn’t a coincidence that Simon had ended up with a name that sounded as close to Sam as it was possible to be. Both Dean and Reiko had written their own lists of names, Dean predictably putting Mary on top of his girl’s list, and surprisingly, Samuel on top of his boys. Jonah already had Samuel as a second name, it seemed a bit of an overkill for Dean to want to give another kid his brother’s name, though Sam had been ridiculously moved by it, and quite hurt when Reiko had vetoed it so soundly.

“It would just be too confusing, having two Sams,” she’d explained, eyeing Sam warily. “Dean would just want to call the poor kid Sammy all the time, and well, that would be seriously confusing.”

He’d bitten his tongue, and nodded, agreeing with her. After all, it wasn’t his kid, he didn’t really have a say in it. This was different than when Jonah had come, back then, he and Dean had discussed names over beers every other night, knowing that the choice had been theirs completely; Cora hadn’t wanted any hand in it, merely specifying that they not call it after plants or fruit or the weather. In the end, Dean and Reiko had compromised on Simon, Reiko liked it and it was near enough to Sam to appease Dean. Simon John Winchester, Dean had announced to Sam over the phone that morning, and Sam had felt the tears well up as he remembered Jonah’s birth and an emotional and terrified Dad holding his grandson in his arms for the first time.

They couldn’t stay for long, Reiko was exhausted and the nurse was wheeling the baby off to the nursery, so the three of them left, Dean kissing Reiko perfunctorily on the forehead as he said goodbye. Sam drove the Impala back, Dean falling asleep even in that short journey back to the house, Jonah babbling excitedly about his new little brother from the backseat. Dean went to bed as soon as they got back so Sam hung out with Jonah again, though Dean woke up after barely two hours, coming downstairs to find Sam watching TV, Jonah asleep with his head on Sam’s thighs. Dean’s hair was all mussed up on one side and he was just wearing boxers, red creases from the pillowcase against his stubbled cheeks, and Sam couldn’t stop himself from staring as Dean went to find a bowl of Captain Crunch.

“Man, it’s good to have you here,” Dean breathed out when he came back into the room, slumping onto the couch beside them, cereal bowl in hand. He patted Jonah’s legs affectionately and reached to ruffle his hair, Jonah not stirring, a hot, comforting presence on Sam’s lap. “Feels all wrong you not living here all the time, Sammy.”

Sam nodded and smiled at him, trying vainly not to fixate on how fucking sexy Dean was with his hair sticking up all over the place, his bare chest with its scattering of freckles, the pale pink nubs of his nipples and the slim tight muscles of his abs with that trail of hair leading down to his old boxer shorts. Dean had always been slim, but to Sam’s well-trained eye, he looked thinner than usual, the skin stretching more tightly over his muscles, his collarbone more prominent, hollows under his eyes that were not just due to the past sleepless night. Sam felt a powerful urge to pull him into his arms, to hold him tight and tell him that he missed him too, that it hurt not to see him every day. But Dean had his own life now – they both had their own lives – he had David, and Dean had Reiko and Jonah and now the new baby, Simon.

“I don’t think we’re gonna last,” Dean blurted out.

Sam did a double-take. The cereal was sitting soggy and forgotten on Dean’s naked thighs and he raised his hand, rubbed his right eye with the meat of his palm, avoiding Sam’s gaze. “Me and Reiko, I mean,” Dean continued. “She wants to go back to England, and I’m not going anywhere. I think I made a mistake. I should never have married her.” He sighed, a bitter, painful sound, “She’s not even gonna breast-feed the poor kid, she wants to go back to work, like, immediately. And I know, her job’s important, she’s a doctor, blah fucking blah, but he’s just a baby, man, and he needs his mom, and it’s not fucking fair.” He broke off, lips pressed together so hard they were almost turning blue. “I told her, just before, before you guys got there, that if that was what she wanted, then she should just leave. Go back to England, whatever. There’s already a job there, this dream job she’s been talking about, at this famous children’s hospital. And she’d be working with little kids with leukemia, but what about her own kid? Never mind all these little bald kids with cancer, what about the baby she’s just had? Makes me so damn angry, Sam.”

He picked the bowl of cereal up, slapping it down onto the coffee table so the milk slopped over the edges and onto the beat-up wood.

“Do you think she’ll leave?” Sam asked tentatively.

“I don’t fucking know,” snapped Dean. “But if she does, then I’m not stopping her, I’ll be happy to get divorced. Makes it pretty fucking obvious where her priorities are.” He huffed out a long breath, and hunched over, dropping his face into his hands. He ran his hands through his hair, making it even more tangled than before, and looked up again, shooting Sam a heavy, rueful glance. “You know, I’ve been sleeping in your room, we haven’t slept together for months. And yeah, she was pregnant, but it’s been, four, five months since we last had sex. Pregnant chicks are supposed to be horny through their second trimester. She used to be really into me, man. But now – it’s like she’s already checked out.”

Sam stared at him in disbelief, wondering for a moment at the kind of woman who could share a home with Dean and not want to sleep with him, pregnant or not pregnant; it was inconceivable.

“It’s fucked-up, right?” Dean prompted.

“I guess,” Sam said hesitantly. “Maybe you guys should break up, but Dean, you’re married, you’ve just had a baby. You can’t just give up, and Simon - like you said, he needs his mother.”

“Maybe not,” Dean retorted with a defensive sort of a look, “We did okay with Jonah, didn’t we? We could do it again.”

Sam froze at Dean’s usage of “we”. Sure, Dean was right, he had helped with Jonah when he was a baby, he’d dropped out of college that first year to be there for Dean and Jonah, but to do it all again… It wasn’t that he wouldn’t, if it came down to it, and at least this time, there would be no sick Dad to deal with as well. If Reiko did leave then of course he would be there for Dean and Jonah and Simon, that was a no-brainer. But things were different now. He had David, and he really didn’t want to ruin their relationship, but there was no way David would put up with him moving back in with Dean again, David already had a myriad of issues with Dean, with good reason.

“Dean,” he started to say, voice hesitating, stomach knotting up as he took in his brother’s tired, worn-down face. He could see that Dean had really lost weight now, had probably dropped about ten pounds over the past few weeks, and he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t seen it. “I, uh –“

“Can it, Sam, it’s okay,” Dean interrupted him. “I didn’t – I mean, it’s not fair for me to expect you to always be around to help mop up my messes. You got your own life, and I need to get over myself and figure things out with Reiko. I married her after all, to death us do part and all that crap.” He snorted bitterly, and got to his feet, picking up the discarded cereal bowl and taking it into the kitchen. Sam was about to get up and follow him when his phone went off, vibrating against his thigh. He swore under his breath and picked it up, seeing David’s name flash on screen, he would have to take this.

He didn’t hear much from Dean for the next few weeks, maybe his brother regretted being so open with him, laying all that shit on him, because on the couple of occasions Dean did call, he just talked about the new baby or about Jonah, about something they’d done like a regular, doting parent. And he was busy himself, mid-terms to cram for and a couple of important papers to finish, and David was up for a major part in a play and he wanted Sam to run lines with him whenever he had free time. So, he didn’t call his brother as often as he usually did, and knowing that shit was difficult between Dean and Reiko, he deliberately stayed away, trying to give them some space to work things out.

But after he hadn’t heard from Dean in five days, after Dean had ignored his messages, he started to worry. Dean had also missed two consecutive football practices which was really out of character, and then Jeannie called him, saying Dean had called in sick the past couple of days and hadn’t answered any of her calls and did Sam know what was going on?

Dean’s expression was closed-down, hard and unreadable when he opened the door to Sam, Simon on one arm and a bottle in the other, barely a flicker of acknowledgement as he registered Sam, none of his usual open affection or even a sign that he was pleased to see him.

At least Jonah was pleased to see him, grabbing onto his pants and tugging him towards the back yard, begging him to come play.

“Just do it,” Dean muttered, “he’s been nagging me all freaking day; I could do with the break.”

Sam cast him a concerned look, but followed after Jonah. He played with the boy for a long while, one of those games that involved Jonah crawling all over him, forcing him to give him piggy back rides, or to just let him ride him like a horse, his small hand slapping Sam’s ass as he encouraged him to gee-up.

Sam heard Dean’s abrupt bark of a laugh, and looked up to see his brother standing just outside the back door, a beer in each hand, as he watched the two of them playing. Sam shook Jonah off and went to join him, taking the beer from him with a smile of thanks.

“He’s missed you,” Dean said, his tone faintly accusing.

“You weren’t at football practice the other night,” Sam countered.

“I was busy. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve got two kids.”

“Course I’ve noticed!” he protested. “But what’s going on, man? Where’s Reiko?”

“She’s gone,” Dean said flatly. “Left. Four days ago.”

“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dean gave him a long, unreadable look from over the rim of his beer bottle. “I dunno. You’ve got your own life – I don’t want to burden you with my shit.”

“What the hell, Dean? Your wife’s left you! That’s not just some shit.”

Dean sighed wearily, put his beer down on the ground and pushed himself off the wall, holding out a hand for Jonah, beckoning him inside. Jonah came running towards him, laughing gleefully and Dean bent down, swept him up into his arms, ducking him and rolling him and pulling him into a kiss. Sam watched, feeling something in his chest tighten, those habitual knots in his stomach that had Dean’s name all over them. Dean set Jonah against one hip and turned to meet Sam’s eyes. “Listen, don’t go just yet. I’m gonna put him to bed, then we can hang out. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sam nodded. He leaned in to kiss his nephew good night, Jonah’s trilled out, “Goodnight, Uncle Sammy!” following him inside.

It was another hour until Dean was done with Jonah; Simon woke up in that time and needed to be fed again, though this time Sam made up the formula, standing over the cooling milk in the kitchen, remembering all those late nights back when Jonah was small when they’d taken turns to do this. He tested the temperature on the back of his hand and passed the bottle over to Dean, their eyes meeting for a fraction of a second, before Dean was fishing the baby out of the crib, cooing softly to him as he fed him. After he was done, he came back downstairs, collecting them two new beers from the fridge and falling exhaustedly into the couch. He looked even worse than he had done six weeks ago, like he’d dropped more weight, his jeans hanging low around his hips, t-shirt looking baggy and loose around his shoulders and chest.

He didn’t need prompting to tell Sam what was going on, just explained in a flat, worn voice that Reiko was gone, that as far as he was concerned their marriage was over, that she was back in England, living with her parents.

“She says she’ll be back. She wants – and this is a fucking joke – she wants partial custody of Simon. But fuck, Sam, how the fuck is that supposed to work? She’s going to be working in London at this kids’ hospital. So, yeah, tell me how that’s gonna work?”

“It’s not gonna work,” Sam said quietly.

“Exactly!”

“Do you think she’ll fight you for custody? That she’ll want to take him back with her?”

Dean let out a long breath, half-closing his eyes as he fell back into the couch. The weight loss was obvious on his face, his cheeks looked hollowed out, the angles of his jaw tight and hard, fine lines around his eyes. Sam felt his fingers itch to reach out and touch him; to trace those soft lines, try and erase them from his brother’s face.

“Honestly, no, I don’t. And even if she does try, then I think I’d win. He’s seven weeks old, Sammy, he’s so little, and she’s left him behind. It’s not fair.” He turned his head, cheek smushed up against one side of the couch as his eyes met Sam’s. “Christ, how the fuck does this happen again? First Jonah, now Simon – I’m twenty four, dude, and I’m a single dad twice over. I was gonna be a star football player, now look at me!”

“You’re not a fuck-up,” Sam insisted. “And, Dean, listen, I can move in, I can help you out. You don’t gotta deal with all this on your own. You know that.”

“No, Sam –“

“Dean, listen to me! It’ll be Christmas in a couple of weeks anyway, so I was planning on being here for that, so I can come back a week earlier, help you out, whatever. And maybe stick around after the holidays for a while.”

“What about David?”

“He’ll be with his folks for the holiday. Don’t worry about that. Just…” – he leaned over, gripped Dean’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, “don’t cut me out, please, man, you can’t do that to me. I want to be here for you, like you’ve always been for me. Don’t push me away.”

Dean blinked a couple of times, and Sam could see the shine to his eyes that signaled held-back tears. He nodded abruptly, letting out a rushed, choked-up sigh, “Okay, okay, Sammy.”

Their eyes met, and for a moment, Sam could see himself leaning in, pressing his lips to Dean’s, kissing him as he’d imagined it for so long, God, as he’d wanted for so long…

He pulled away, took another swig from his beer. “I, uh, I’ll have to go soon, but I’ll come by tomorrow, and I’ll get shit sorted with David. It’ll be okay, Dean. I promise.”

 

 

It wasn’t okay though; it was about as far from okay as it could possibly be. Only one month later and Sam was back living at David’s apartment, waking up to his phone ringing insistently and chills down his spine, David bitching petulantly: “Answer your goddamn phone, Sam. It’ll be your brother; it’s always your fucking brother.”

Sam swore and picked up his phone, he was out the house in less than two minutes, and at the hospital in twenty.

There were no warning signs. Dean beat himself up a lot about that afterwards, but Sam had stopped by earlier that day, had held Simon himself, fed him and played with him and he’d noticed nothing, neither of them had noticed anything, no rashes, no high fever… Sure, he’d been fussing more than usual, but they’d not thought anything of it, he was an eleven week old baby, eleven week old babies fussed. The doctors tried to be comforting, telling them that in babies of Simon’s age, it was difficult to pick up the signs, but it didn’t make any difference to Sam and Dean, to the heavy weight of guilt that settled over them.

Simon had bacterial meningitis and the prognosis was very bad.

Sam stayed with Dean at the hospital for two days, glued to his brother’s side, Dean’s fingers latched onto the sleeve of Sam’s hoodie like Sam really was his only lifeline, only letting go when they were allowed in to see Simon or when Jeannie brought Jonah by to see his Dad or twenty four hours later, after Reiko arrived, just flown in from London, Dean momentarily releasing his grip on Sam’s sleeve to pull his wife into his arms. Sam felt an overwhelming wave of relief as she let go of Dean, coming over to greet him, her eyes pink and wet, expression grave and anxious. She would know what to do, she would understand what was happening because he and Dean were hopeless, had to have everything explained over and over until it really sunk in: those enormous, life-changing words when they finally got the good news, had it confirmed that Simon was going to survive, but there would be complications –damage to the cochlea – could result in sensorineural hearing loss –

She stayed a month, until they were finally allowed to take Simon from the hospital, after they’d run all the tests, had it confirmed for sure: the damage to the cochlea was permanent and irreversible, the hearing loss was severe, baring future medical breakthroughs, Simon would be deaf for the rest of his life.

Reiko accepted the news with the same calmness and understanding as when she’d explained to Dad that they were not going to go ahead with the chemo, distancing herself from the situation as if Dean and Simon were not her family but her patients, giving Dean the numbers of people she knew: the best hearing experts, pediatricians, language therapists and ASL teachers in the state. It was all very useful and Dean acted equally calm and distant with her, listening to her respectfully when she explained something to them and asking her opinion about everything. From the outside, they looked more like distant acquaintances than a married couple.

Two days after they brought Simon home, she left, Sam giving her a ride to the airport in the Impala.

“When will you be back?” he asked. She was staring out the window, as calm and serene as always, though when she turned her face to him, he could see the tears streaked down her face.

She shook her head, “I don’t know. I think maybe it will be better if I didn’t. But then, I – he’s still my little boy, and I can’t… let him go completely.”

Sam bit his lip, nodded abruptly. “Yeah, I, uh, yeah. So, you and Dean?”

“We’re over,” she shrugged. “I don’t regret it, Sam. Dean is an amazing person, but we’re just not suited to each other.” She sighed, fished a tissue out of her purse and dabbed at her eyes. “Please promise that you’ll let me know what happens with Simon, that you’ll tell me exactly what the doctors tell you, Sam. And promise me that you’ll make Dean see those experts; it’s crucial that you and Dean and Jonah start learning sign language now, any delays could have serious effects on Simon’s social development.”

She still sounded like a doctor, though Sam could hear the tremor in her voice through the professional calm; see the way her eyes were tearing up. “And, I’ll, uh, I’ll try and come back and see him. Though, I don’t know when that will be.”

“Okay,” he said quietly.

“He’ll be okay with Dean, I know that Dean – he’s such a great father to Jonah, and with Simon, he’s got so much love to give. I know he’ll do anything to make him happy. He’ll be better off with Dean, and he’ll have Jonah and you.” She trailed off, and Sam was suddenly reminded of Cora, the night before she left for good, convincing herself that she was doing the right thing for her baby.

“Of course he’ll be okay with us,” he reassured her, “and you’re right, no one could love a kid more than Dean. He’s an amazing father. Hell, he raised me, didn’t he?”

She nodded and gave him a fleeting, brittle smile. She didn’t speak again until they got to the airport.

She filed the divorce papers a week later.


End file.
